Beep Beep!

Michael and I have become fascinated with roadrunners, those cute and zany birds that are native to the Southwest. Their funny crested heads and long striding legs give them an antic appearance that really appeals to us both.

Our personal experience with roadrunners involves the tame roadrunner, "Jerry," that lives at the Starr Pass Country Club where Michael sometimes has golf lessons. I sit up on the restaurant patio area and knit or read or check emails while Michael golfs there. Jerry hops up on the ledge and waits for diners to share their meals with him. He's not even a little shy, sometimes moseying over and hopping up on the table for a bite! And he is so cute as he cocks his head to look at you!

When I read in the paper that the Audubon Society was sponsoring a lecture about roadrunners, there was no hesitation on either of our parts about attending. The capacity crowd that showed up for the event told us that we weren't alone in our fascination.

The lecture, presented by Jim Cornett, a very appealing and knowledgeable speaker, was entitled, "The Roadrunner: Almost Human." Focusing on similarities between humans and roadrunners, the lecture was so interesting and informative...and funny!

So, here are the highlights.

• Roadrunners are among very few animals that mate for life. In order to win the affection of the female, the male must bring her a courtship present, and it needs to be a good one! Lizards are particularly valued. Yum. The male holds it in his beak until the mating is complete, and then the female snatches it from him.





• Roadrunners do not fly much. If they have to, they can glide, but they have no central breastbone, weak pectoral muscles and small wings, so flapping is not among their skills. They can, however, run 18 mph and stop or turn on a dime to stymie their predators.





• Roadrunners have zygodactylous feet (I took notes at the lecture!) That means they have 2 toes facing forward and 2 toes facing backward. When you look at their footprints in the sand they look like X's and you can't tell if they are moving toward you or away from you. Good for survival, huh?





• Males and females look almost identical in every way. They both have postorbital patches, which are patches of colored skin just behind their eyes. The patches are red, white, and blue, regardless of gender, and are revealed mostly during occasions of great anxiety.





• Roadrunners do not go "beep beep", but they do have a huge array of vocalizations.





• Roadrunners are omnivorous. They eat lots of things, but prefer meat. People sometimes tempt them with balls of hamburger, which they will happily accept, but it's best not to feed them this meat. If they have young in the nest and bring this food to them, the young will not develop properly and will die. That's because lizards and rodents, their "best" meals, provide the bone-building nutrients needed to help their long legs grow strong to be able to carry them. Roadrunners also eat snakes up to 18 inches long. They'll swallow the snake headfirst, but can only accommodate 1/2 the snake in their stomach at a time. As they digest the front half of the snake, the rest hangs out of their mouth for up to a few hours. Lovely.





• Roadrunners are very tame. (See "Jerry" above!) We learned that some people have roadrunners that will come tapping on their windows and doorwalls. When let inside, they will head to the kitchen to accept their snack. Those who are devoted to the wellbeing of the regular roadrunner visitors will purchase rats and mice for them and leave them on the drainboard. OMG!! Note: we have not yet done that.





• Roadrunners hatch their young asynchronously. This means that they are born over a series of days, rather than all at once. The firstborn is fed first and favored by the parents. In fact, it is not uncommon for the parents to take the lastborn chick and feed it to the firstborn to make him stronger. (Makes me happier to be a middle child! Um, watch out, Leonard!)

We bought a cute roadrunner yard art sculpture to bring home. He'll remind us of our cute desert friends. Beep Beep!

Desert Life

When you live in the desert you have to accept that you are co-existing with the wildlife that has always lived here. I had literally no experience with desert life before we first came to Tucson last year. In fact, on the drive out in 2010, I had asked Michael, "When they talk about the desert do they mean like Laurence of Arabia?" I was being serious. I couldn't even picture what life in Arizona would be like. Not even a little.





Now that it's our second year here, I am growing more accustomed to the little nuances of desert life that are so different from my life in the midwest. For instance, when we walk, I am careful not to brush up against the cactus. I know to use pliers to pry the errant quills of the "jumping cholla" off of my clothes and out of my skin. You really don't even have to touch those guys. They do jump off the bush and attach themselves to you! I know that we are likely to see coyotes and javelinas out and about (although we saw more last year than this year for some reason.) Our landlord cautioned us to close the front gate to avoid finding a javelina enjoying a drink at the waterfall fountain in our front yard. (Michael, of course, takes this as a personal challenge and keeps telling me that he WANTS to leave the gate open and meet the javelinas.) Our landlord also forwarded us a photo from last summer in which a wild bobcat sat perched on the outdoor spa near the pool in the backyard. We love watching the quail families cross the road and the roadrunners scoot around madly. The desert is alive with any number of wonderful species, and we welcome the opportunity to meet and greet them.




I was, however, totally unprepared for my first encounter with a diamondback rattlesnake on the path near our house! EEEEK! It has been unseasonably warm this March, with strings of days in the 80's. That's enough to heat the water in the pool to swimming temperatures (yay!), and apparently enough to encourage the snakes to venture out from wherever they have been all winter (boo!) No me gustan snakes!



Our friends Nancy and Jimmy were visiting from California. Nancy and I set out on a walk in the 'wash' down at the end of our street. This is my main neighborhood walk, a nice 45-minute circuit that takes me down the street, down a steep hill, over and back across the desert land that belongs to the county ('the wash,' named because that's where overflow water would run if it ever rained here!) , back up the hill and home again. I take this walk most days each week, often alone. As Nancy and I trekked across the desert portion of the walk, talking animatedly about her son's upcoming wedding, we spotted a 3-foot-long snake slithering across the path in front of us. It had diamond markings that caused it to blend in with the sand on the path, and several black stripes near its tail. (The fact that it was a rattlesnake was confirmed when we arrived at the visitor center of the park that afternoon and saw photos of the exact snake there.)


We were no more than 6 feet away from it, and I truly don't know what made us look down, as we were fully embroiled in our conversation. We grabbed each other and started taking long slow backward strides. Picture Lucy Ricardo and Ethel Mertz in a panic. I had no clue whether it would chase us, coil up and strike, or what. I don't "do" snakes. I don't even read about them. I couldn't take my eyes off of this one, though.


Nancy remained perfectly calm and reassuring, for which I will always hold her in grateful admiration and amazement.
Me: "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What should we do? Should we go home? Should we run? Shit. Oh my God."
Nancy: " I'll do whatever you want to do. Let's think it through, Rhody. If you want to turn around, we can. I don't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. What would you like to do? Do you want me to walk ahead of you and keep a lookout?"
Really, Nancy? When did you get to be the brave one, and how did I turn out to be such a wuss?! Sheesh!
We waited, hearts pounding , (at least mine was) and watched him move slowly across the path and out of sight. After lots of discussion, we decided it would be safe to continue the walk, and we did. Safely.

Since that day I have talked to many locals and heard all kinds of stories about snakes. Some creeped me out, bigtime. A neighbor's child, new to Arizona, decided to "pet the nice snake in the driveway" and was rushed to the hospital. Another neighbor's dog nosed into a bush and was bitten by a rattler, requiring $1500 of treatment. (There are specific training sessions for dogs to teach them to avoid snakes, I learned. Now, that's a great idea.) Local parents train their kids to stay away from snakes from an early age. Golfers are cautioned not to reach into a bush to retrieve a ball.

Mostly, though, we found out that snakes aren't interested in harming humans without provocation. It's important to pay attention to your surroundings when out and about in warmer weather. Look down and around when walking. Make noise on the path to scare snakes away. Give them a wide berth if you need to pass them.

I'm thinking that maybe Chicago will be a wide enough berth from the snakes for me!

If you're wondering why there's no photo for this post, I was too busy wiping the shit that ran down my leg to grab my camera and snap it! JK

Generations

Nothing lights me up in the way that spending time with my kids does. Michael and I are so grateful that we are fortunate enough to have the kids living nearby. So it's with some level of guilt that we take off for the winter. It was particularly hard to leave Chicago this winter because we'd be gone during the second trimester of Carrie's pregnancy. Sure, we had Skype, email, and phone calls to help us stay in touch, but nothing comes close to that hands-on contact that I was craving. We were so excited that David and Jolene and Carrie and Chris would be able to come and spend a long weekend with us in February.

By the time we got to the airport to pick them up, I was practically jumping out of my skin. And then, there they were, walking through the airport door into the bright Tucson sunshine. Carrie's blossoming belly preceded her, and the look on her face was so much "the cat that swallowed the canary." She was clearly so excited to show us how far she had progressed. It was the proud face of my little girl who had just completed a complicated project at arts camp or earned a spot on the traveling soccer team. Now she was a mom-to-be, incubating our grandson! Surreal, to be sure.

In typical Carrie fashion, before the sun set on their first day here, she generously whipped up her shirt and pulled down the panel on her pants to reveal "the bump," offering herself to us for full examination. Then she grabbed my hand and carefully guided it over her taut belly. "Here," she whispered. "Hold it here." Seconds later I felt the fluttery kick against my hand and then a light thump. A tiny drummer beating his own rhythm. Magic. Hi, baby. It's Grandma. I love you.

Our time together, just the six-and-a-half of us, was grand. We did some hiking, lots of laughing, and lots of eating! There was a lavish breakfast featuring french toast casserole and fresh fruit, a picnic on the road to Mt Lemmon where we assembled makeshift sandwiches and stuffed potato chips into our mouths, a BBQ brisket dinner in the comfort of home, a visit to In-N-Out Burger, a fancy dinner at Wildflower and more. We sat outside and read, we gathered in the kitchen to make loads of salsa and guacamole and then dove into them with fistfuls of chips. Through it all there was such good energy between us all. What a bonus it is that the kids all genuinely like each other. Everyone helped out with the cooking, the dishes, the food prep and the clean-up. I am so proud of this crew!

The weekend flew by, and though we are reluctant to leave the mountains and sunshine, we are drawn, as though by magnets, to return to the kids in Chicago.

Operation Deep Freeze

February 2011 dumped record snows on Chicagoland, as we heard from our many friends and family there...and watched on every national TV news show last week. Holy crap! Such a history-making mess. Thanks to all who sent pictures and stories of personal survival in this blizzard that ranked third in the annals of Chicago's weather history. Did it make us nostalgic? Um, not even a little. Sorry.

Here in the Old Pueblo we set some weather records as well. Temperatures dipped into the teens three nights in a row...and it set the city on its head. Local TV stations featured emergency press conferences with the mayor, heads of water and gas, and the police chief addressing the citizenry. News anchors gravely cautioned all to be aware of the "4 P's": people, pets, plants, and pipes. Alas, it was too late for many. Tens of thousands of homes and businesses suffered burst water pipes. The desert architecture does not plan for deep freezes; many pipes are exterior. Stores quickly ran out of insulating materials for wrapping the pipes. To make matters worse, Southwestern Gas ran out of natural gas (isn't that just unbelievable?!) and 14,000 customers were left without heat. (We have electric heat. Whew!) Here's the plan they established to deal with it: Crews of gas company employees were sent door to door to 14,000 residences to turn off their exterior gas meters. With the lines clear they were then able to open the main source pumps. Then the gas company crews (now augmented to 200 with volunteers from Phoenix) had to go door to door again, but this time they had to gain interior access to each residence to relight the pilot lights. It is completely incomprehensible to me that in 2011 this is how things would work. (But I'm not a scientist; I just play one on TV.)

The city established warming shelters and invited people and their pets to come use them. I was in a Walgreens picking up yet another sinus/cold remedy (more on that in a minute) and had a few conversations with the locals. One woman said they had gone to a hotel, but the hotel had no heat either. The cashier was busy answering the phone, telling customers who called that "No, we're out of space heaters. Nope, no heating pads. Ditto for hair dryers." People were desperately trying to stay warm any way they could.

Our friends who had just arrived days earlier for a February rental found themselves with burst pipes and no heat. Hey, welcome to your winter escape to Tucson! We were so happy that we could offer them a bedroom and nice hot showers until their situation was remedied just in time for their Super Bowl party!

The plantlife took a nosedive, too, in this weather that is absolutely without precedence here. We look outside at the landscaped bushes and plants in our yard and see the Salvador Dali-like effect of frost on leaves and flowers that have melted down onto the ground. They'll come back in time, we're told. That may not be the case with some of the wonderful specimen cactus...and no one really knows when the effect on the saguaros may be known, since there have never in history been such sustained freezing temperatures here in the desert. It may take years to see the damage that this cold weather has wrought on them.

Through it all, daytimes brought sunshine, though, and we are so grateful for that. Michael and I both wound up with hard-hitting viruses that continue to linger in our sinuses and lungs. Germs don't give a damn where you are living, I guess. We're dragging our asses, but we are getting out and about and working at enjoying all that Tucson has to offer.

In the spirit of unprecedented assaults on the world, we continue to learn of serious illnesses affecting dear friends of ours and we spend part of each day sending our healing vibes to them. It's incredibly hard to be so far away, worrying about their progress, and it makes us feel helpless. And I'm not even going to get started on how vulnerable and mortal it makes us feel when our agemates are having heart surgeries and hip relacements. I had told a friend just yesterday that I haven't been writing in my blog because I didn't want to be a whiny blogger. I'm really trying not to be whiny.

Two things had me laughing out loud yesterday. I'm reading a Jonathan Tropper book, How To Talk to a Widower, which is a lot funnier than its title suggests. I just love his use of language and ear for dialogue as well as his quirky characters. Doug, the narrator and 29-year-old widower of the title, tells us, "Pity, I've learned, is like a fart. You can tolerate your own, but you simply can't stand anyone else's." Don't you just love a perfect analogy, especially one that involves farting? (You can see why I loved teaching 8th graders, huh?)

At a local shop (full of wonderful food and gadgets) I came across a coffee mug that spoke to me. It was imprinted with,"I'll have a caffe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please." To your health, everyone. Get healthy; stay healthy. Let's drink up!

Cultural Collision

Keeping a blog has played an important role in motivating me to pay attention and live in the moment. "Live each day as a writer," I used to urge my students. Writers find ways to make sense of, organize, and utilize the details of the world they see. We went on an outing shortly after our arrival in Tucson this year that has been replaying itself in my head, urging me to explore it.

It took place on a day before the sadness of January 8th had hit. We were hosting 4 dear longtime friends from out of town, deciding what sites to visit to get a sense of Tucson and environs. First stop: the Saguaro National Forest West. To get there we rode through gorgeous Gates Pass along switchback roads up high into the mountains. Breathtaking views energized us to continue to the Visitors' Center at the park. (Not before we had them pose spelling out OHIO in tribute to the OSU connection they share with Michael!) At the welcome center we watched a video, narrated in the familiar slow cadence of the native American, that introduced the relationship of the Tohono O'odhams to saquaro cactus. You can't visit Tucson without becoming enthralled by these "gumby" cacti. They are unlike anything we midwesterners can imagine. I wrote about them last year, but want to shift the focus a bit this time.

The Tohono O'odham, a native American culture group whose name means "people of the desert," make up a nation that currently includes 25,000, living mainly in southern Arizona, but also in Sonora, Mexico. For the Tohono O'odham the saguaro cactus is an honored relative, as they explain in the video we watched. When you hike through a "forest" of saguaros they do actually look like a community of people, some huddled together, some with arms outstretched, some with arms uplifted, some larger ones sheltering smaller ones like individual family sculptures. As we learned, the saguaros don't sprout "arms" until they are at least 70 years old. Many, then, that we see daily have been around for centuries. I find myself thinking of trips to Italy, France, and Greece and the feeling there of being immersed in a timeless history. Well, here is a similarly timeless history, only it's nature-made as opposed to man-made.

The cactus provides for both the physical and spiritual sustenance of the Tohono O'odham. Saguaros produce fruit at the top that is harvested in the spring by these natives. They make saguaro wine, jam, jellies, candy (tastes like those Passover sugar-coated jellied fruit slices!) and then celebrate a rain feast in honor of the coming monsoon season. Rain and water play such an important role in the lives of Tohono O'odham because of the very arid region in which they live. We left there immersed in the cultural significance of our surroundings.

And then...lunch at In N Out Burgers! Now that's a whole different culture, for sure. We watched the 'regulars' order their burgers "animal style," an option not shown on the menu but available to those in the know. We Chicagoans proudly tout our Chicago dogs, served "through the garden." Westerners are gaga for In N Out and it's easy to see why. We thank David, who spent several years in California, for turning us on to them.

The afternoon brought us to the Stone Avenue Temple, now home to the Tucson Jewish History Museum. Our visit there highlighted the historical journey of Jews in southern Arizona, a topic we knew little about. This temple, established in 1910, was the first Jewish house of worship in the Arizona Territory before Arizona achieved statehood. It served as an important center of Jewish community for the entire southwest. Originally advertised as "the Jewish church" and then Temple Emanu-el, the building had subsequently been used as a church, a theatre, and a Mexican radio station before going vacant and providing shelter for the homeless. It has since been lovingly and painstakingly restored as a fascinating museum. A friend of a friend had been closely involved in the renovations and he came to talk to us and give us the inside scoop. Fascinating. Culture and history bloom there with such pride after so much effort and community involvement. There is a wonderful slide show showing the renovations on their website. http://www.jewishhistorymuseum.org/

While we were there waiting for our tour to begin, a gentleman came in behind us. He announced to the tour guide that he was a Yaqui and asked permission to tour the exhibit. He meant no disrespect, he explained, and we were drawn into his increasingly louder discussion with the docent, who was busy assuring him that all were welcome there. The gentleman, very knowledgeable in history of all kinds, insisted on pointing out the connections between the Yaquis and the Jews. He bordered, at times, on belligerence, but we soon came to understand that he was not deranged, just very passionate about history and his culture's experience.

When we came home I looked up some information on the Yaquis. Originating in the northern Mexican state of Sonora, Yaquis struggled for independence from Mexico and the wars between the two brought many Yaquis to Arizona. Porfirio Diaz, during his regime in Mexico, began a policy of ethnic transfer of the Yaquis, removing them from Sonora to the Yucatan peninsula where they were persecuted and enslaved. I could understand why 'our Yaqui' felt a kinship with the Jews, and I wondered if he was disappointed or heartened when he discovered that this Jewish museum, unlike the Holocaust museums, focused solely on the gains and vibrancy of a culture rather than on its destruction.

The collision of cultures was not part of our expectation on that day we set out to explore Tucson. Yet, there it was, knocking on my writer's brain, encouraging me to pay attention. Glad I did. Cultural pride blooms everywhere it is planted.

National is Local

I hadn't planned to be blogging about national disaster when we came to Tucson. I had planned to write about adventures, the desert, fun restaurants and hiking trails we'd discovered. Once again I'm reminded that we aren't always (are we ever?!) in charge of our plans. We have friends who lived in DC for years and years. When we'd visit them they'd always point out to us that our national news was their local news. How well I understand that now.

It's Friday morning, almost a week since the shootings took place. Michael is off with his golf instructor and I've thrown in a few loads of laundry and taken some quiet time to catch up on my reading, emails, and blog. (We've discovered that when we take some time apart it's a more interesting reunion when we each come back "to the party" with something new to talk about.) We're not "on vacation" here. We live here, albeit temporarily. That means that we go to the grocery and the drycleaner, we work out at the JCC (where we joined for 3 months), we go to the library (which kindly issued us cards when we showed our forwarded mail. I love libraries!) We take walks in our neighborhood and speak to the neighbors and the service people. (While shooting hoops in our driveway...stop laughing!...we struck up a conversation with a local realtor who represents a seller across the street. We ended up on a tour of the house.) We hike in the local canyon. All this is to say that we feel like we are part of a community, and this community is positively reeling from the events of last weekend. My Zumba instructor at the J had gone to the memorial service at the U of A. Two local friends live near that Safeway and shop there regularly. Both know Gabby and and one knew Judge Roll well. The morning and evening local news shows lead daily (and frequently commit the entire show) with "Tragedy in Tucson." Kudos to the one station that changed its banner to "Tucson, Together we Thrive." (Much more comforting. And this community has come together in quite an admirable way. I love learning about all the unseen gestures being made daily.)

Each morning at 10 there is an update on the hospitalized victims. And that doesn't take into account the national morning and evening news shows that feature updates and reactions. I've always been an AM and PM news viewer. Now, as with any televised disaster since JFK's assassination, I find myself addictively glued to the TV. I seriously need to hide the TV remote (and the potato chips and chocolate covered pomegranates. Thanks, ESB!) However, at 5:30 PM each day, just as local news gives way to Brian or Diane or Katie, I step outside and take a quiet moment with the mountains. At this time of year ( and it will shift as the days lengthen during our stay here) at precisely 5:30, the sun hits the Catalinas so that they blaze a burnished burgundy. It only lasts a minute or two and it's a sight I try not to miss. Spectacular.

National and local coincide all the time these days. We're pretty comfortable with our understanding of the layout of the city, but we were caught offguard one evening on the way home from dinner when traffic slowed on Swan at Pima. We didn't know that Gabby Giffords' office is on that corner until we were upon the many memorials crowding the front walkway. The same thing happened as we drove up Campbell on our way back from a downtown excursion. There we were across from the news cameras and trucks that vied for space at the UMC with the hundreds of people who were there with candles and flowers to pay tribute to the victims who were hospitalized. On Wednesday we headed north and west of our home to go to a practice golf driving range and putting green (I had my book handy and the bright sunshine to keep me company. Don't cry for me, Argentina!) Before we realized it we were crossing the intersection of Ina and Oracle and there was the Safeway, still cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. There are reminders everywhere...and it sobers us.

Despite the sobering aftermath of this unspeakable violence, we are here in beautiful Tucson in unseasonably warm weather. The sun shines daily, the light shifts over the mountains and works its colorific magic. We're active and healthy and grateful for the opportunity to savor our experiences here and anticipate months of adventures ahead. Thanks to all who have inquired about our wellbeing. We miss you. Let's keep in touch!

Bad Things Happen to Good People

I had started to title this post "Stop the World; I Want to Get Off," but I've decided that that is not the attitude I'm going to choose. It implies 'checking out,' and I will not do that. None of us should do that. Rather, we need to rededicate ourselves to examining what we can each do to make our society a better place. I'm going with Ghandhi who believed that we must "be the change we wish to see in the world."



My worlds, private and public, collided this past weekend. On Friday morning intruders broke into Chris and Carrie's condo, kicking through the front door of their building while they were at work. They then kicked through the front metal door of their unit, breaking the door frame before making off with a tv and camera.

Fortunately, they did not harm our granddog, Weldon, and they did not take computers or other personal items. The neighbors have been helpful and supportive; police and insurance company reps have done their job. An alarm system will be installed, doors and frames replaced and reinforced, tv has already been replaced...and eventually they will move on. I found myself struggling to move beyond platitudes and cliches and help C and C make sense of their feelings of violation. Here are 2 good people who work hard, save their money, pay insurance and taxes; they live a lawful life. How dare someone break into their home! How dare someone carry off their personal property! How dare some lawless individuals violate their sense of security in the sanctuary of their home! No fair! How do they regain their sense of safety and trust? What can I tell them about the world we live in? Will a run-in with a few bad people change their world view?



And against this backdrop, the events of Saturday unfolded here in Tucson. We watched in horror as the local scene here became national and international news. A deranged young gunman opened fire on Arizona Congresswoman Gabby Giffords and 18 other innocent bystanders, critically wounding Gabby and killing 6. How can we make sense of this? I was so moved as I watched Pima County Sheriff Dupnik speak so eloquently about the role of the media in spreading vitriol on a 24/7 cycle. While some will argue that he jumped to conclusions and spoke out of turn, I found him to be courageous and honest in his assessment. Of course the shooter is mentally unstable. Why else would he have fired so randomly around him? What sane individual goes on an attack like that? There's no question of his derangement. However, no one will know what role the media plays in inciting individuals like this to act. I'm haunted by the news clip that is played over and over in which Gabby responds to the posting on Tea Party websites in which her district, among others, is shown in the crosshairs of a rifle scope. What have we come to as a society where we are fueled by such hatred, where violence is seen as a solution?



How do we make sense of the loss of life of a 9-year -old girl in a random shooting like this? Newly elected to her elementary school student council, Christina-Taylor Green came to 'Congress on your corner' to learn more about government and democracy. The irony of her 9/11/01 birth and her violent death sits on my chest like a weight. I have to keep reminding myself to breathe through it. How do we make sense of the death of a judge like John Roll? A campaign worker like Gabe Zimmerman? The irony of retirees like the Stoddards who traveled around the world, visiting 28 countries and all 50 states, only to be gunned down just one mile from home at their local Safeway store? How do we make sense of the attack on Giffords, who was out there doing the thing that we would urge our representatives to do, to represent us by listening to our opinions, by interacting with us constituents? She is one of the shining lights in government. How do we make sense of it?



I don't have the answers. I'm filled with questions. How do we address the gun laws that enable someone like the shooter (I am purposely avoiding using his name. He's gotten enough attention. I don't want to honor him.) to walk in and purchase a Glock and ammunition to commit such an atrocity? How do we expect those in public office to continue to put themselves out there in the line of fire? (I'm reliving the Kennedy assassinations as I sit paralyzed in front of the tv.) How do we convince government to put a halt to budget cuts that limit mental health care? How do we make those in the media aware of their impact on our society? The bar of integrity is set so low. (Keith Olberman on MSNBC Saturday made a most eloquent final commentary in which he encouraged all of those in the media to apologize to the public for any role they may have played in establishing a climate of hatred and vitriol. He led by example and offered his apology. I wonder if any others will take his lead.)



This is clearly such an all-encompassing topic. I'm trying to grapple with it all, as I'm sure you are, too. Let's find a way, individually and collectively, to support those who are looking for ways to make a possitive difference in the way we function as a society. Let's be kind to one another. Let's not dwell in hatred. Let's use this as an incentive to do better. Here in Tucson there are so many who have been affected by this violence. It's like a big small town. Everyone knows someone who was hurt or killed. Local groups are coming together to bring donations of food and offer other support to the media, police, fire department, hospital workers, and families who hold vigil at the University Medical Center. Young children are bringing balloons and stuffed animals and speaking in mature ways about honoring the dead and wounded, about ending the cycle of violence. Let's continue to be good people, even as we understand that sometimes bad things will happen. I've always admired Anne Frank for her ability to continue to believe in the basic goodness of humanity. As hard as it is, I'm going to try to keep the faith. That feels better to me than to smolder in the alternative...